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softjeon · 3 years

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Falling for you | Pt. 1

• Pairing: Jimin x Namjoon • Genre: fluff, nsfw-content | Rating: Mature | Christmas!AU / Curse!AU • Words: 4,1k | AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of blood, accidents, alcohol

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ Everyone told him that love was the highest aim, that it was what completes you and made you happy…but he was never lucky like that. It just took a piece of him and left scars on his heart every time. He was done with that. He had given up on love a long time ago so he should stick to it or else not only he would be affected.

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He glanced up at the luxury property as he crossed the street walking towards it. A massive twenty-something story modern building of tinted glass and stone. In front of it, there was a doorman wearing white gloves and dressed in a long red coat hailing for a taxi for an old man, before opening the door for him with a big smile. A shy thank you came from his lips, as he slipped into the building where he felt even more out of place than before. Maybe he should have decided to wear something else? He had never been to this part of the town and had never planned to do so. Usually, he had no business being here. But he really needed the money.

He frowned, trying to ignore the fact that the chandelier hanging in the lobby probably cost more than he had ever spent in his entire life, walking up to the elevators to push the button, Jimin took a deep breath.

…

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, jingle all the way!" His voice was echoing through the hallway, as Jungkook wiggled happily, dancing around, while holding a bunch of folders in his hands. "Oh, what fun it is to ride…" His singing stopped abruptly, when someone's chest hit his nose, making him stumble back. Jungkooks gaze wandered up the dark blue tie until he met his boss's eyes. "I know, I know. You're more the Halloween type of guy but the spooky season is over, Mr. Kim. Only four more weeks until Christmas!" A big grin appeared on his face as he pushed the folders into Namjoons hold. "No more warlocks, demons or witches. Just cinnamon, cookies, presents ...and love. It's my personal mission to get you into the mood, sir."

“Then I’m afraid I have to tell you your personal mission is bound to fail spectacularly.” He wipes a bit of glitter from the folders that he has no idea where it came from as Jungkook isn’t carrying actual Christmas decoration but he wouldn’t be surprised if Jungkook love for Christmas would manifest in glitter that magically appears on people who hate Christmas whenever he is near.

He wonders how someone can be so happy about a season where you have to hear the same songs you had to listen to all the years before, where everyone is stressed but points out that it's about ‘peace and family’ while everyone is getting crazy about how many presents they still have to buy and how much money it’s going to cost. He hates it with a passion, honestly, but keeps it to himself. Maybe it’s also because it’s supposed to be the ‘season of love’ and he closed that chapter a long, long time ago.

Jungkook frowned a little, but it was soon replaced with a smile again. “Are you always this self-fulfilling prophecy type? With this mood, how are you supposed to even enjoy the most wonderful time of the year? He sang the last part of it, posing as he stretched out his arms with jazz hands as if he’d just finished a massive dance piece waiting for his applause. But there was none. “Can’t believe I took the spot,” He sighed dramatically, “If I had known I’d be working for the grinch himself…” Jungkook grinned teasingly, knowing that Namjoon could take a joke - or else he really wouldn’t have been working for him as his personal assistant. It was his dream job actually.

When he first arrived at the interview, Jungkook didn’t think he’d stand a chance against all the other people with far more expertise than he had. Kim Designs was a very well-known Company, that Jungkook always had admired and in a ‘go big or go home’ moment, he had filled out the application in the middle of the night, a little frustrated and drunk on wine after being dismissed for the nth time by various of companies because of his lack of experience. And to his own surprise, the former assistant had called him in for an interview. The elegance, the simplicity and yet, the intricate little details that were Kim Namjoon’s trademark were always a personal favorite of Jungkook and although he still wasn’t so sure why he had picked him, he was happily working for him now.

“But you’re coming to the office party, right?” Jungkook asked with a raised eyebrow, before another sigh came from him. “The Christmas party? In your office? That is every year and you never attend?” The ring of the doorbell made Jungkook walk a little more backwards towards the elevator that was about to arrive on their level, without leaving his boss out of view. “I told everyone you were coming this year. Said you were really happy about it!”

Namjoon just pulled a face, “You’re lucky I need you or I would send you straight out to door so you can bring your Christmas-nonsense somewhere else!” The truth was Jungkook was the best that could have happened to this company and he was really fond of him so he would keep him no matter how crazy he would get during those last two months of the year.

The party would probably be like every year: He paid for it, for delicious food and colorful drinks, for decorations and little surprises - all made by a party company of course so he didn’t have to even step foot in the room. No one expected him to be there anyways, except for Jungkook maybe, who somehow never ran out of hope and determination.

“You can say it, Joon! You love me!” Jungkook winked at him, before turning around swiftly just right at the moment the elevator stopped. He pushed the button and the two metal doors slid open. Knowing about Namjoon’s appointment, Jungkook was keeping a smile on his face, awaiting the substitute maid that Hayoung wanted to send in, while she was on vacation.

Inside the elevator, he was realizing that he was facing the wrong way, Jimin turned around with blushed cheeks. “I’m here to see Kim Namjoon. I’m supposed to be taking over for Hayoung.” He spoke as calm as he could, trying to cover up the fact how nervous he was. He knew who Kim Namjoon was. Everyone did.

“That would be me.” Namjoon tried to hide the fact that the person in front of him was nothing like he had expected. Hayoung was a sweet old woman, the motherly type and somehow when she had said she would get someone to cover for her during her holiday Namjoon had thought she would ask a friend, someone her age. However, the boy in front of him couldn’t be older than himself! And he was pretty enough to be a model with full lips and a soft smile that turned a little shy when Namjoon looked too long at him. He cleared his throat, getting himself together before walking ahead. “Let’s go to my office, there we can do the formalities and we can decide when exactly you will start. I suppose Hayoung already explained all your duties to you before she sent you here?”

Jimin gave him a nod, passing Jungkook with a smile, who turned back around to let his eyes wander up and down the maid’s back. His eyes widened as he raised his eyebrows at Namjoon, pursing his lips into an appreciative nod. Pointing at the young man, he gave his boss a thumbs up, his mouth shaping all kinds of ‘wow’ and ‘omg’ words as he walked into the elevator. To top it all off Jungkook began to form hearts with his hands before he started to hum ‘all I want for Christmas’ again.

Namjoon furrowed his brows, shaking his head at Jungkook to tell him to stop. He received a very confused look from Jimin and realized that the younger’s relaxed and confident facade was slowly but surely starting to crumble. Was he scared of him? It didn’t surprise him when people from outside believed the media that painted him as an ice cold, scary, power hungry man because of his sudden success but he would have thought that Hayoung had told Jimin that he wasn’t like that. He opened the door for Jimin and the younger almost stumbled when he stepped on the carpet.

What a great start for someone who was supposed to clean his precious apartment…

Jimin sat down on one of the chairs in front of Namjoon’s desk, folding his hands together to keep them from nervously shaking. Was his expression already a ‘no’? Had he found someone else?

“Hayoung told me everything I need to know.” He began answering Namjoon’s question from before. “What your preferences are, where I can find everything, and she gave me a list of duties that need to be done daily or weekly. Oh, and of course the list of things I shouldn’t touch. She made sure I studied it well, before coming here, so I hope I can replace her for her vacation accordingly.” Jimin took out a thin folder, holding it out for Namjoon to take. “My personal information as requested.”

Namjoon put it aside right away, never taking his gaze from Jimin. He could read that later. What was way more important to him was if he could trust Jimin to stick to the rules, to not sniff around or steal or…worse. “Why did you take this job, Jimin? I’m sure you have better options than cleaning, don’t you?” He cut straight to the point.

Jimin froze on the spot like a deer in headlights.

“I mainly work as a florist but as you might know, it’s a job you have to do with all of your heart and yet, it doesn’t pay much. That’s how I know Hayoung. She always comes to buy fresh flowers for years. I assume some of them were even for your apartment.” He explained without hesitation. “I’m not really the type to work in a bar or be a waiter. I don’t mind cleaning, though and Hayoung has been speaking so kindly about you.” He smiled at Namjoon, feeling a lot more at ease the more he was talking. “And it’s Christmas, Mr. Kim. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I could use a little extra money.”

“Money won’t be the problem, I pay well - if you do your job right. If you have a problem or need more cleaning supplies or anything comes up you can talk to me. And I mean talk to me first. My apartment is very personal and private and exclusively visited by me. As you might have guessed there are things that are of utmost importance to me. I am very peculiar about order and privacy and that you keep everything you see and hear to yourself. Do you think you can handle the weight of this responsibility?” He downright stared at Jimin by now who didn’t seem to know where to look.

“Absolutely,” Jimin’s smile reached his ears, looking up at him with a smile, before averting his gaze shyly again. In front of him sat a man with way more influence than he could ever dream of. He could destroy him and his reputation with a snap of his fingers. Jimin had absolutely no interest in angering him. Hayoung had explained it to him perfectly, the need for order and privacy, when it came down to the newest collection. Just one word to the wrong person could mean a great damage for Kim Designs.

“Then I’m glad to have you here.” He pushed the paperwork over to Jimin. “Please fill those in before you start. The money will be transferred to you at the end of your job. Two weeks, is it? Unless you need it sooner, then I can talk to Jungkook and he will figure something out as I trust you wouldn’t get Hayoung or yourself into trouble by just taking the money and vanishing.”

“That’s fine,” Jimin took a pen and began to fill out the form quickly but thoroughly. “When do you want me to start?” He asked, lifting his head to look at Namjoon again. “Oh, Hayoung hadn’t told me about it, but I happened to notice there was no decoration. Do you want me to set up some Christmas lights? I bet they would look great in your entrance.”

“No!” He blurted out, startling Jimin so much the pen slipped over the paper. He felt immediately sorry for him. “Ah, sorry for that, it’s just... I don’t really like the whole Christmas ordeal. It’s Jungkook who makes a fuss about it. Jungkook my personal assistant, you’ve seen him pass you at the elevator but I’m sure you’ll get to know him properly some other time, he basically handles my schedule on his own for me.” The alarm on his watch reminded him that he had to be in a zoom meeting in ten minutes, so he got up and Jimin mirrored him right away. “As for when you start, the sooner the better.” He got out his set of spare keys from the drawer and gave them over to Jimin. “These are my keys, don’t lose them or you’ll have to pay for the locksmith. You can let yourself in whenever you want, I often work late so you can clean whenever your other job allows it. Take your time in the beginning, I’d rather pay for an extra hour than coming home to a half-cleaned apartment.”

Still confused about his behavior but with a smile, Jimin took the keys from him. “I will do my best.” Was all he could say, before Namjoon had closed the office door right in his face, leaving Jimin startled once more.

Taking his bag, Jimin placed it on the kitchen counter and looked around the apartment. He could hear faint noises of a conference call behind the office door and because he didn’t want to be noisy and listen, Jimin took out his notepad, where he had scribbled down everything important that Hayoung had told him.

The apartment was far bigger than he had imagined, so Jimin was glad for the order of tasks he was given or else he’d have probably felt a little overwhelmed. After dusting off the shelves and cleaning up each and every counter, Jimin was sweeping the floor, making sure he didn’t miss a spot, and everything was back at its place just like before. Not an inch too far to the left or right. Just like Namjoon wanted it.

Hayoung would have been proud of him, Jimin thought to himself, when he pushed the button of the elevator again, waiting with a content smile.

…

“So, when was the moment you wanted to tell me Hayoung would send such a bombshell, huh? Is he single? Maybe I could slip my number in...or drop my card here somewhere...He probably is married, right?” Jungkook let out a small whine, as he looked up from his notepad, where he had scribbled down everything Namjoon had said in the last twenty minutes. “You know what you should have done, make him wear a maid’s costume.” He grinned, leaning back a little, “I’m just joking!” Raising his hands in defense, he added quietly, “You can’t deny he’d look good in it, or well, he probably looks good in anything. What was his name again?”

“I didn’t know who Hayoung would send and I also don’t care how he looks.” The last part was a blatant lie, but he knew if he confessed that he thought Jimin was very attractive Jungkook would never let him live it down. Also, he refused imagining Jimin in a maid costume (maybe at home in his bedroom when he was alone...)

“I don’t know if Jimin is married…” Jimin didn’t wear a ring on his finger but maybe he was wearing it on a necklace under his clothes “...but you better be quick if you want to ask him out because he will only be here for a couple of weeks.”

He placed his pen aside and looked directly at Jungkook. “Is there anything else on my schedule today? If not I’ll leave you to your swooning over Jimin to make some private calls.”

Jungkook shook his head, as he got up and took his bag with him. On his way out, the elevator already opened up before he could even push the button and Jimin smiled right back at him. Jungkook greeted him with a light bow, slipping into the elevator while the other passed him.

Jimin was holding onto something wrapped in paper and only the green ends sticking out told Namjoon what it was: flowers.

“I thought you might like them on your dinner table?” The younger man walked up to Namjoon, showing him the bouquet of flowers. “Do you like them? I arranged them just how I’d normally do it for Hayoung, just added a little more...now that I know what your lovely home looks like.” His eyes fell onto the phone in the other’s hand and the papers in front of him that indicated the other was still working and quickly added. “Maybe they make working a little easier if you can look at something pretty. I’ll put them in a vase for you and then you can decide.”

“That’s nice.. thank you.” Namjoon was a little overwhelmed. Normally he asked Hayoung to get flowers for birthdays or celebrations; he rarely got them for himself for no reason. However, Jimin had a well-trained eye and the light, soft colors brightened the room very nicely. The call that he was about to make was forgotten as he put the phone aside, following Jimin into the kitchen where the younger was busy filling the vase. “Did the cleaning go well?” He asked after a moment of silence, because he didn't know how else to start a conversation with Jimin.

“Yeah,“ Jimin cocked his head aside, looking at Namjoon with a smile. “Did I miss anything last night? I’m sorry if I missed a spot, I tried working off the list Hayoung gave me. Maybe you want to look it over and see if everything is included?” He arranged the flowers a little more, so they looked perfect, before turning it around to Namjoon to make him see. “I didn’t vacuum your office though, as you were still working when I was finishing everything. Are you always working this late, Mr. Kim?”

“No, no, it was perfect.” Had he sounded like he was questioning Jimin or wanted to reprimand him? Namjoon pressed his lips together. He really didn’t have a talent for small talk. He could handle a room full of people easily - if it was a meeting. But as soon as he tried to talk casually with someone it backfired.

“You made the right decision, please don’t try to vacuum my office while I’m still in it.” He tried a small smile. “I’m in contact with people from various time zones that's why I’ll have to be in my office during strange hours.” He explained, keeping it to himself that yesterday he had simply lost track of time.

“Just making sure you’re not overworking yourself. Even a busy man like you need to rest. I don’t think you come up with all your ideas on sleep deprivation…” Jimin pushed the vase over to Namjoon carefully. “Do you mind placing it onto the table for me?” He turned around to open the cabinet with the cleaning supplies to get out all the things he needed today. There was no need to do all the rooms daily, so he was switching routines, taking out the piece of paper again to check Hayoung's notes.

Namjoon didn’t move, holding the vase to his chest but keeping his eyes on Jimin, fixated by the way the younger licked his lips in thoughts while studying his list or how he pushed the hair away from his face. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked…

He was about to head to the stairs that lead to Namjoon’s bedroom, when Jimin noticed the vase still being in his hands. Jimin chuckled, looking up the taller man. “The dinner table, Mr. Kim. Or do you want it to be somewhere else? Should I take them up to your bedroom maybe?” Namjoon’s stare made him nervous, the long gaze he was holding made him avert his own. “Is…is there something on my face?” Jimin wiped over his cheeks nervously. He had quickly eaten some sandwich on his way over here, after he had closed his shop, so he wondered if there was sauce on his face. That would be more than embarrassing!

“Ah, dinner table of course!” He rather had Jimin thinking that he hadn’t been sure where to put the flowers then confess that he had been caught by how beautiful Jimin was. He was also pretty sure that Jimin was doing all those lovely little things that made him so charming without even realizing it. “Your face is fine.” He answered Jimin’s question a little stupidly, leaving it at that without giving another explanation, simply because he didn’t have any that wouldn’t include how he could stare at Jimin for hours without any reason.

Jimin couldn’t help but giggle at Namjoon’s cuteness. It was strange to see a man, who he only thought of a well-known designer, someone wealthy and smart so flustered out of a sudden. It was kind of cute.

Walking up the staircase, Jimin smiled at the other over his shoulder when out of a sudden he stumbled forward and over the rug that was laid out at the top. Falling hard on his knees, Jimin yelped in pain, just for it to turn into laughter, quickly giving Namjoon a sign that he was doing okay.

Namjoon hurried over to him, nonetheless. “Are you okay? Did you slip?” Jimin fell so quickly that he hadn’t seen anything at all. Hopefully the other wasn’t hurt because - and he felt a little guilty thinking this - if he couldn't come clean then Namjoon would have no possibility to see him again. And he really wanted to see him…

“I’m fine,” Jimin was about to get up, when Namjoon’s strong grip pulled him up easily. “Oh, please don’t worry.” He quickly waved the other off, I just stumbled over your rug, that’s all. I’m usually not very clumsy, but I think looking one way and going the other is never a good idea.” His eyes fell down to where Namjoon was still holding onto him and his heart skipped a beat, quickly trying to cover the blush appearing on his cheeks while he brushed off his knees. “It’s best I fall up the stairs, not down, right?”

Namjoon chuckled. “If you put it that way then yes, please only fall up the stairs.” They were standing a little too close together from how he had pulled Jimin up but neither of them stepped away. Up close like this he could see Jimin’s eyelashes that fanned out beautifully, hiding Jimin’s eyes with the way the younger was looking down right now. There was a rosy blush high on Jimin’s cheekbones and Namjoon almost brushed over it out of instinct, before he quickly stepped away, shocked by his own desires. What the hell was he doing here?

Jimin flinched from the sudden step back when moments before he had gotten lost in Namjoon’s eyes. “I ehm…I need to be in your bedroom.” He stuttered the words nervously, realizing too late how they sounded. “I mean…clean your bedroom. I wanted to change the sheets and…that’s where I need to be. Not in the sheets, I eh…” Jimin was about to slap himself, feeling his cheeks flush red as he grabbed the cleaning utensils again and taking another step away from Namjoon.

With that Jimin vanished so quickly Namjoon couldn’t even utter another word. Which was probably better because else he might have told that he would very much like it to have Jimin in his bedroom and in his sheets.

Namjoon shook his head hoping to get rid of those strange ideas. What was he doing? One night stands where fine but this? This was dangerous. He had given up on love a long time ago so he should stick to it or else not only he would be affected but also Jimin.

The poor boy had no idea what he had gotten himself into, he was just sweet and charming and Namjoon should make sure to keep his distance from now on if he didn’t want to destroy that.

A/N: Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells... Let’s get into the christmas mood with a little love story shall we ;) Once more we couldn’t keep ourselves from writing our favorite pairings. Thats how it is now lmao. Anyways...why is Namjoon afraid of affecting someone with falling in love? What’s happening there huh???

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defensefilms · 3 years

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Embiid, Sixers And Everything Else In A Wild NBA Post Season

1. Sixers And The Joys Of The 1 Seed

This is it.

This is what it’s all about. I can’t remember having this type of optimism about the Sixers during any post season. The 2018/19 Sixers were close but they didn’t validate that optimism the way this year’s team has as far as regular season performances.

These guys have done that and then some.

We’re no longer a team devoid of shooting or ball movement. We’re no questioning what our best line-ups are and who our best player is. We now have an experienced post season coach with the cache to make demands of these players.

This is the best any Sixer team has looked in any post season. We put the mollywhopping on the Wizards. From the head coach Doc Rivers, his staff and then all the way down to Shake Milton and Mike Scott off the bench, no one even entertained the idea that we weren’t going to sweep these guys.

Now we’re facing an obstinate Atlanta Hawks squad. The Hawks have no way to stop Simmons or Embiid 1-on-1 but they got shooters for days and Trae Young’s averaging 27.7 points on 48.4% from the field. We need to put some respect on his name. Get the ball out of Trae’s hands because he was doing too much in game 1.

First there’s the fact that we’ve had our struggles defending elite scoring point guards this season. Then there’s the fact that Trae Young has done us dirty a few times before. The Hawks gave us hands in game 1 of the 2nd round. We we’re down early and didn’t get close to coming back until it was too late buts its far from curtains in this series.

One thing that has definitely been of huge concern is the health of Joel Embiid.

How is it possible that a man tear his meniscus on May 31st and then drop 39 points, 9 boards and 4 assists in the playoffs on June 3rd? How? He can’t be healthy and I don’t know if it’s smart for his long term health to play right now. He was one of the bright sparks of the game. It’s not just this specific injury either.

This season has been hell on Embiid’s body. You have to wonder how much their gonna risk it or if the team are even halfway considering giving him a rest. Embiid spoke about managing his injuries after game 1 against the Hawks. Honestly doesn’t sound good. He’s talking about managing the swelling in his knee. This on top of ACL injuries sustained towards the end of the regular season. He’ll have had five days rest before game 2 so hopefully that helps remedy what is way more alarming than the Sixers front office is making it seem.

2. Lakers Flame Out

It’s been a dramatic season for the 2020/21 Lakers and typically speaking I don’t think that a team seeded so low are worthy of a list or breakdown like this but this is a special case. These Lakers are likely a way better team than seeding suggests.

Injuries to their 2 best players, saw the Lake-show lose number 1 seeding and then slide further down.

Roster-wise the Lakers tried their utmost to replace the production that they got out of Javale McGee and Dwight Howard. Marc Gasol just can’t be an active defender anymore and his inability to cover the perimeter and post at the same time became a huge issue. Montrezl Harrell has averaged 23.7 minutes off the bench and Dennis Schroder stretches the court as a shooter and a tertiary scorer but is more turnover prone than Rajon Rondo was.

The signing of Andre Drummond was a great idea and his rim protection and big body offense are valuable assets but he was never on the court with the team’s top stars long enough for any kind of chemistry to develop.

The big issue is that as a team they are not the defensive powerhouse they were last year. The issue with that is that this team doesn’t have the kind of offensive scoring and 3-point shooting that can allow them to rely on blowing teams out the water and outscoring the opponents.

The signs were ominous from pretty early on but stop lying to yourself. More importantly, stop lying to the people. Don’t pretend you knew the Lakers would lose this series to the Phoenix Suns.

Anthony Davis has had his well covered and documented struggles with injuries throughout the season. As a an on looker, I gave the Lakers the benefit of the doubt every step of the way. I felt like we knew how this goes and the team with winning pedigree would get it together. LeBron’s injuries were something I felt he could overcome because he’s LeBron. It just never happened. That moment when Lebron takes over like he did against Boston in 2017, just never happened.

I’m hesitant to say it’s over for LeBron or anything even remotely similar to that. However it might be a wrap for him in Los Angeles.

3. Brooklyn Looking Nasty

Are the Brooklyn Nets Nasty or are they playing against a team that lacks versatility?

I’ve watched a lot of this team since 2017 and you know what I realized, that they’re a well oiled, championship caliber team until oppositions shut down the 4-out-1-in strategy. The meltdown they suffered in the 2018/19 post season against the Toronto Raptors was bad but still left room for optimism. The massacre they suffered against the Miami Heat in last year’s second round was a signal for change.

Yet I don’t feel there has been a lot of change. So the onus falls on Mike Budenholzer to come-up with a convincing second act to his game plan. Two games in to the 2nd round series against these Nets, Bud has failed spectacularly.

Then there’s the flipside of the coin, which I hope just isn’t true.

The Brooklyn Nets are looking untouchable. Kevin Durant is among my least favorite players but he’s killing it. The confidence he’s showing taking defenders off the dribble and pulling up is incredible and to be fair he’s always been really good at that.

Durant slapped the Bucks up for 32 points, 4 rebounds and 6 assists in game 2 and then had one of the snidest post game interviews you’ll ever witness from an athlete.

The hope here is that Giannis and the Bucks can get it together because we need someone to take some of the steam out of this Nets squad.

4. Kristapz Porzingis Hates Being A Mav

There is an absolutely hilarious 5 minute clip of Luka Doncic just refusing to pass the ball to Porzingis throughout the 2020/21 season. Click here and witness basketball comedy.

Luka Doncic absolutely dominated in a losing effort against the Los Angeles Clippers in round 1. However it was clear that he was only going to push the Clippers and the only way to do better than that would be to take the pressure off of Luka and some one else to help carry the scoring. If only the Mavericks had a big man to compliment Luka, you know, a guy that can create his own shot and still be a mismatch when Luka forces bad switches and he finds himself guarded by smaller guys. Oh wait.

The world has finally taken notice of everything happening in Dallas and most importantly everything that’s not happening in Dallas. Luka’s growth and development is something for the organization to be proud of but this was supposed to be complimented by the growth of Kristapz Porzingis and that just isn’t happening.

The word on the streets is that Porzingis is frustrated with his role on the Mavs and may seek a trade but after some of his performances in that round 1 series, I think the Mavs will have a hard time convincing anyone to take on his contract.

5. The West Can Call Itself Wild Again

This here is by far the most open Western Conference playoffs in over a decade,

I don’t buy the hype about how the Western Conference teams are better and more competitive but the record is the record and it can’t be argued with.

No so this year.

The Lakers falling out of the race has definitely gifted us a conference where we just don’t know who is going to emerge as the representative in the finals.

The Phoenix Suns have definitely racked up the most street cred by beating Lebron’s Lakers in 6. Devin Booker is simply awesome and I don’t say that as a fan of his. He average 29.7 points, 6.2 rebounds and 5.0 assists against the Lakers and they also overcame an injury scare to Chris Paul. They have a very interesting 2nd round series against the Denver Nuggets, who lost Jamal Murray to injury and found a way to keep winning and also overcame a near super human scoring output from Damian Lillard in round 1.

Then there’s the 1st seed Utah Jazz, who will go down in history as the most disrespected and underrated 1 seed in recent memory. They’ve been matched up against the Los Angeles Clippers who looked like they were reeling in the early part of their round 1 series against Luka Doncic and the Mavericks, then Kawhi and Paul George composed themselves and took the series in a thrilling 7 game series. The redemption story is definitely still in progress.

That’s 3 different 2nd round playoff match-ups that will probably provide a high quality of basketball. Well worth the watch.

#nba #nba 2021 #nba playoffs #philadelphia 76ers #joel embiid #los angeles lakers #lebron james #brooklyn nets #kevin durant #dallas mavericks #denver nuggets #utah jazz #phoenix suns #los angeles clippers

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anthropwashere · 4 years

Text

Phic Phight: over and outside and under

Prompt from @ectopal: After the accident, Danny is stuck on the wrong side of the now broken portal. What does he do to try to get home?

@currentlylurking @phicphight

Word count: 5,498

Danny wakes up.

Considering just how hard he got pitched out of consciousness before this, it’s kind of a relief.

The first thing he's aware of is being sore, more sore than he can ever remember being in his life. Breathing hurts. The instinctive curling up in wordless protest to this whole 'being awake' thing hurts more. He doesn't know what he's laying on but at least it doesn't feel like the cold tile floor of the lab. He stills, takes shallow breaths, reluctantly cracks his eyes open.

All he sees is broad, smeary strokes of greens, unnaturally bright on a gloaming backdrop deepening to blacks and violets. He blinks to clear his vision. His vision remains uselessly blurred. He swallows, grimacing at the dry click of his throat and the way his chapped lips stick when he opens his mouth. "Sam...? Tucker?"

His voice comes out in a low croak; weird to his ears in a way he doesn't know what to think of, so he doesn't. He's more concerned about how there's no answer anyway.

He tries to brace himself despite his soreness, to sit up and rub the bleariness out of his eyes, but he sort of—wobbles, instead. There's nothing under him to brace against.

There's... nothing under him...?

He squints around harder, trying to make sense of all this too-bright green and backlit black. Perspective is virtually non-existent. All he can tell for sure is that he's floating in empty space.

"Uh," he says intelligently.

"Uh," he repeats with more appropriate panic.

"What—augh—AAA—!" And other similarly useful comments sputter out of him while he flails around like a drowning man for a while, clawing around in a blind panic and catching purchase on a big heaping pile of zilch. Where is he, where is this, what is this, he's falling, is he falling, he can't tell if he's falling—

Something catches his eye, weird enough to slow his scrambling. His glove, to be exact. He's still wearing his embarrassingly tacky jumpsuit, but... its colors have inverted? Black gloves are now a white so bright to make his eyes hurt if he looks too closely; the white of his upper arm is now a black so dark it seems to suck the diffuse white light coming from—his gloves? Are his gloves glowing?

He peers closer at the hem of his glove to the body of the suit, compares it to collar, belt, and boots, all of which are the same eye-wateringly bright white. Yup. That is a noticeable, low-level glow. Aura. Something. Why the fuck is he glowing?

He notices something beyond his immediate focus, something that wasn't there before. Or he got turned around while panicking about this whole 'is he falling or isn't he' insanity. Who cares. There's something a lot closer than all this freaky, acrylic paint-like smears of color all around him. There's the Portal. He's never been happier to see it in his life, and starts dog-paddling towards it even as he belatedly registers something's different about it. He can't make it out at this distance; he's maybe... 20 yards from it? 30? Perspective is still out the window even with something solid to focus on. It's farther away than it looks from the foot of the stairs down to the lab, anyway.

It takes roughly an eternity to paddle to it, though really it's probably only a couple minutes. Everything around him—and above, and below—remains terrifyingly empty and impossible the whole way over. It's so quiet. Dead of night quiet. He pushes that observation away to deal with later as his gloved hands make a satisfying smack against the Portal's riveted steel frame. He's—floating, ugh—near the top of it, giving him a bizarre top-down angle that makes it seem alien simply for having never seen it this way before. It's still the most normal thing around by a country mile.

Maybe literally.

Maybe he shouldn't think about that.

He hooks his fingers on the edge of the frame to keep from drifting beyond it, only noticing then that there's nothing past it. Empty swirling void continuing ad nauseum, sure, okay, that's still obviously, weirdly, a thing. But the Portal itself isn't just a big frame slapped up against the lab's wall, it's got a tunnel going back about 12 feet. It's what he was standing in when the whole world went electric-white and vanished on him.

And the tunnel’s not here now.

There's just the octagonal frame with the red alarm light flickering weakly a few feet from him, its black-and-yellow striped doors half shut on empty space. There's only the frame.

Carefully—and with no small amount of growing dread—he leverages himself down along the frame for a closer look. Confirmation that this really is all there is. A big, useless hunk of steel to cling to in an otherwise empty stretch of who-knows-what. He swallows, fighting panic. There's an on/off switch next to the Portal back home—is this that Portal? A copy? Where's the rest of it?—but there's nothing next to this one. He pulls himself back up to tap his fingers on the alarm light; it flickers a little more urgently, but nothing else. Nothing useful.

"Okay," he whispers shakily. "Okay. This. Don't freak out. There's gotta be a way back—"

His voice fails him as he realizes the extent of what's happened to him. He's not in his parents' lab. He's not in his house, not in Amity Park, not on Earth. Nowhere real looks this—this weird. This impossible. This is impossible, but here he is all the same.

His parents were right. Their Portal worked. It tore a hole right in reality and dumped him out....

He has to focus very, very hard on keeping his breath even, his heart hammering in his chest in a way that feels—off in a way he wouldn't know how to explain if there were anyone else here to ask. He scans his surroundings with fresh eyes, taking in again the smearing, dripping neon colors splashed across a swallowing darkness as far as he can see in every direction. Far, far away, impossible to even hazard a guess how far, he can make out vague green lumps clustered together. In another direction he can see dots of purple in a sort of uneven stripe. In a third there's something blocky colored a bone-white; at this distance it seems to twinkle like a star.

This is the Ghost Zone. The Portal turned on somehow while he was standing inside it, and it shunted him into the Ghost Zone.

He's in a parallel dimension where ghosts are real.

"Okay," he chatters. "It's fine. I'm okay. There's nothing around me—literally! Ha ha, ha, hngh. Nobody around. There's no—no ghosts. No Sam or Tucker either. They must've been too far away to get—zapped, or whatever. So. Just me here! Alone!" He smacks the Portal again for reassurance. The gesture fails spectacularly. "Just me and this busted Portal. No way to get home—"

No way home.

He has no way to get home. No way to tell Sam and Tucker he's here. No way to tell his parents they were right after all, but can they save the celebration for after they've rescued him?

They're not even going to know he needs rescuing. How could they? From Sam and Tucker's view he just vanished. Blinked out of existence. Literally, ha ha ha.

...Right?

He lets go of the Portal to look at his too-bright white gloves again. Definitely glowing. Definitely not the same color configuration as when he put the stupid jumpsuit on.

...is he dead?

Did he die?

He can't help the deflating balloon squeak that slips out him, immediately backtracking. No way. No no no no, ha ha, absolutely not. He's not dead, he can't be dead. He can't. There's got to be a more logical explanation for ending up in the world's biggest lava lamp. Right?

Okay, okay.

So.

He huddles in on himself, floating in a tense knot as he goes back over—whatever it was, exactly, that happened to land him here in the fucking Ghost Zone.

Sam wanted to sneak into his parents' lab while they were out to take a bunch of pictures, because her grandmother had somehow gotten her hooked on scrapbooking. Danny figured, whatever, they always took a million years grocery shopping, so what was the harm of going down to the lab for ten minutes? Then Tucker'd found the jumpsuit rack and made fun of Danny for having a custom ghost hunting jumpsuit, which was fair. For all that Danny'd never asked his parents to make him one, he still had one. Jazz did too, for that matter, but she wasn't home for Tucker to make fun of her too, and if she had been she would've blown a gasket at Danny for going in the lab without their parents. Then Sam got the bright idea to get Danny to put the stupid thing on and pose around the lab. Tucker salvaged his best friend cred by agreeing with Danny that that was stupid, but there's never been any talking Sam out of an idea once her eyes light up that eagerly. So, into the suit he got, zipping it up over his clothes and fidgeting when it bunched his jeans up uncomfortably—

He's not uncomfortable now.

Well, aside from the whole-body soreness and near-overwhelming panic, that is. Point is, the jumpsuit feels fine now. He fumbles for the zipper at his throat and tugs it down enough to see if—

Yyyyup, he can unhappily confirm he's not wearing a shirt under this stupid jumpsuit anymore, which likely means the rest of his clothes are... gone. Apparently.

Where the fuck would his clothes go if he's still wearing the stupid jumpsuit?

He takes a shaky breath. Right. Getting off track. So. He put the jumpsuit on, posed around the lab feeling like an idiot and increasingly worried his parents would come back home in time to see him looking like he cared about whatever craziness they did down here. Then they ended up in front of the Portal, and they talked about it. His parents have been trying to make a functioning hole in reality since they were in college, something like 20 years ago now, with no luck. The three of them talked about what it would be like if his parents did get this thing working one day, how cool it would be to have a portal to another world full of creatures straight out of horror movies. Sam had taken a shot of him alone outside the Portal, then goaded him into the tunnel itself. He'd reluctantly gone in and, mindful of all the thick cables tangled up on the ground, kept one hand on the tunnel wall for balance.

But.

But he'd heard something click, felt something shift under his fingers, right before the world dissolved in white-hot blast of pain.

Well.

Okay.

That explains the soreness. And also the maybe-deadness.

Fuck.

"I really hope I'm not dead," he half-jokes to himself, intending to make a self-deprecating crack that he'd make a really boring ghost, but at that exact moment there's a harsh flash! of white light that leaves him blinking green afterimages at his suddenly bare hands.

Then he's falling.

Like, for sure this time.

He doesn't scream so much as make a tortured shriek like an abused dog toy as everything around him becomes a dizzying and flashing stream of bright and dark, bright and dark. Mostly shades of neon green and too-dark black, interspersed with purples and blues and one startlingly huge red thing that makes a sound like a jet engine as he plummets by it. He sees chunks of earth that look like they'd been scooped up from somewhere Earth-adjacent and dumped here to float in empty space, stained deep blues and maroons and almost-normal shades of green. He glimpses a few crumbling ruins, big wandering shapes of stone blocks and wood and polished metals. He chokes out a mangled cry for help once, twice, three times, and still he's falling. Still he's alone.

He hits a chunk of earth about the size of his mattress and it falls apart to smoke, only slowing his momentum for the moment of painful impact. He can't tell if he broke anything, but it sure did knock the wind out of him. He spends a terrible eternity gasping for air, clawing at the green patches of mist and praying to grab something solid.

No such luck.

He falls.

It occurs to him, once he's gotten his breath back, that he wasn't falling before. In fact, he was doing a bang up job of floating just fine. So what changed?

Doing his best—admittedly an all-time low, but his current circumstances are, to put it frankly, pretty fucking sub-optimal—to ignore his horrible situation, he looks at his hands. Definitely not wearing gloves anymore, somehow, and also definitely not glowing for that matter. He looks down at the rest of himself nervously—then sighs with relief. Oh good, not naked. He's back in his jeans and T-shirt, and not a scrap of him is glowing.

So he needs to be glowing to float here? Maybe? Sure. Why not. Okay, so how does he start glowing again? Why did he stop glowing?

"I really hope I'm not dead," he repeats, though he's falling so fast his words are torn away before he can hear them. "Okay, sure, why not. I hope I am dead?"

Nope.

"Jumpsuit. Jumpsuit. I want my stupid jumpsuit!"

Nope.

"I'D LIKE TO STOP FALLING PLEASE!"

Nope.

"FLYING! FLOATING! I'M DEAD! GHOSTS FLY! STOP FALLING! CHANGE BACK! CHANGE CHANGE CHA—"

Another harsh flash!

Now he's falling, but in a stupid glowing jumpsuit.

For fuck's sake.

He scrunches his eyes closed and imagines as hard as he can that he's no longer falling, feeling like a complete idiot but well on his way of trying the Peter Pan route of scrounging up as many happy thoughts as he can if that's what it'll take to save his probably-dead idiot ass from double-dying on any of the chunks of land hurtling up at him at what feels like Mach 7.

Come on.

There's a hard, choking yank that whips him around like the farthest a bungee rope can strain before snapping. His limbs go flailing, his neck pops painfully, but the horrible whistle of wind in his ears stops abruptly. When he dares to open his eyes he's gratified to find himself looking at a patch of ground thick with overgrowth he'd barely managed to hit not ten feet below him. "Ha! Haha! Yes! I did it! I—whoa—!"

His recovered floating ability bails on him again, and he goes crashing face first into a very thorny bush. Hot lines ignite all over his exposed head and scalp. Even while yelping and trying to shake himself free he's grateful for the stupid jumpsuit. It's thick enough to keep the three-inch long brambles safely away from his skin, and dead or not he's apparently something enough to still feel pain.

Eventually he pulls free of the death-bush, falling on his ass with an undignified but thoroughly relieved, "Oof!"

He decides sitting there for a while is an excellent idea. At least until the world, or zone, or whatever, stops spinning so dramatically. It sure feels like his heart's going all out in his chest, which is an important tally in the Not Dead column. He drags one shaking hand across his face and ends up with neon green smeared all across his palm instead of blood from where the brambles scratched him, which is an unhappy tally in the Fuck I AM Dead column. Glowing and floating probably belongs in that column too. Things look grim.

It's at that moment the death-bush snarls.

He looks at it, already leaning away in case of—something, and yelps when a skeletal arm shoots out and grabs his ankle.

"No," he tells it firmly. "Absolutely not. Off."

"Graaakhhhhugh," says the death-bush, or the ambulatory skeleton lurking inside, or maybe it's some sort of horrible plant-skeleton-ghost combination. Who cares, Danny wants nothing to do with it.

"I—said—get—off!" He punctuates each word with a wild kick of his leg, then yelps again in disgust as the arm falls apart at its green-limned joints. Bits of bone float to the reddish earth too slowly, like they're underwater, or on the moon, or in a dimension where gravity's some kind of optional. That little middle finger to physics is maybe the most upsetting thing Danny's seen so far.

A pair of red lights flash deeper in the depths of the bush, which all in all seems like fair warning of things wanting to go from bad to worse. He's back in his jumpsuit so floating's an option again. No way he's staying on this hunk of rock with whatever's growling at him. He throws a mock-salute in farewell at the death-bush, firmly stomps all over the instinctual 'don't jump you absolute moron' his brain-stomach-heart all pitch at him, and jumps off the little island.

Naturally, he goes plummeting.

He's torn between screaming and sighing, and ends up making another prolonged deflating balloon squeak all the way down a few hundred feet before he figures out floating again. God, but he's lucky he's dead or dead-enough that whiplash isn't something he needs to worry about, apparently. He definitely would've broken his neck by now otherwise.

Ha ha, look at him, trying to find a positive spin on 'death by lab accident.' And Jazz always says he's got a negative outlook on life. Joke's on her!

Ugh.

Splayed out like a cat being held by an idiot and just as certain he's going to fall to his impending death, he very carefully cranes his head to look back the way he came. He can't even see the Portal anymore. It's a lava lamp hellscape as far as the eye can see. Great.

Okay.

Hovering, he's figuring out. Falling, he's already an old pro at. Maybe flying's on the table? Some semblance of control, some way of going any direction other than 'straight down.' He'd be happy with some good old-fashioned 'falling with style' at this rate. Buzz Lightyear, don't fail him now.

He moves at a snail's pace, eventually angling himself vertical again. Up, he thinks as an experiment.

Incredibly, it works.

Of course, he's so surprised by this unexpected achievement he stops thinking in a vaguely upward momentum and so of course goes hurtling downward another hundred or so feet—right into another earthen island.

He lays there awhile, blinking stars out of his eyes.

"Ow," he says eventually.

"HHHHHHHRRRRRRGRAAAAAAAAUGH," something very, very big says.

Danny would very much like to wake up from this bullshit nightmare now. Alas.

This island is a lot larger than the previous one, so it's something like thirty seconds before he finds an edge to throw himself off of. All the while the very, very big something knocks trees the size of redwoods aside like they're so many dominoes, the purple-ish ground shaking like an Etch-a-Sketch. It's all Danny can do to keep his feet under him. He manages one look over his shoulder and immediately wishes he hadn't; those were some teeth.

He jumps. He falls. He keeps falling until the horrible garbage disposal-esque roaring of whatever-that-was fades, then catches himself again. It's less painful this time, so maybe he's getting the hang of it? Sure, why not.

He takes a minute to catch his breath again and get a look at his new surroundings. Neon green on a black backdrop. Cool, cool, loving the variety. Details, details, anything unusual, anything that might try to eat him, apparently—

There's another stretch of island beneath him, maybe about fifty feet below. This one's big enough that its edges disappear into the distant green fog in a way that feels just a touch too Silent Hill for comfort. Not that he's had an abundance of comfort since he woke up here, but still. If anything remotely like the four-legged mannequin monster starts wriggling around down there he is out.

He eases himself down at a far slower pace than he's failed to manage before this, pleased even as he tenses in case of whatever might charge out at him to defend its territory or whatever.

When he touches down something crunches underfoot. He can't help the full-body flinch, bracing for a blow even as all his aching muscles protest.

Nothing happens.

No growling, no snarling, no earth-shaking stomping. Nothing.

Warily he looks out between his forearms, raised to protect his head. No sign of movement. This island's a lot darker than the others he landed on, as well as all the others he hurtled past. Unlike the others this island is entirely barren, just rolling hills of jutting dark green stones in every direction he looks as he lands in a narrow clearing.

A narrow clearing which happens to be full of bones.

He swallows, wincing when his other foot crunches on something despite his care as he steps down fully. Nothing reacts. It's just him in what is, essentially, some kind of ghost ossuary. So that's fun.

Oh. Oh that is definitely a human skull. Time to go.

He takes one step and hears a growl directly behind him. Before he can panic and bolt up the nearest rocky hillside, a woman's voice says, "Hold."

He stays put, shaking. He looks around, seeing nothing but green rocks, green rocks, green rocks, red—

A sphinx roughly the size of a school bus looms over the hillside he fully intended to flee toward, never mind that its—her?—voice sounded like it had come from behind him. It—she? yup, she is definitely a she because those are definitely breasts he definitely shouldn't be staring at. He hastily focuses on her face and instantly wishes he could look elsewhere, because everything about her face screams uncanny valley. Every inch of her is shades of neon red, garish to the point where it hurts his eyes to look at her directly. She has a human face stretched terribly across a lion's skull; her mouth far too wide, her almond-shaped eyes unblinking, her nose a flat arrowhead shape, her cheekbones and jaw jutting harshly. She's bald, or at least doesn't have any more hair—fur—on her head compared to the rest of her. Her shoulders have a distinctive human hunch to them, at war with her lion body and overlong neck. Her wings are the darkest shade of red on her, and even folded Danny can tell her wingspan is ludicrous. All of her is, really, but he's too busy reeling at the toothsome smile she's baring at him to think of the rest of her details.

"Little ghost," she says. He knows she's speaking, but her mouth doesn't move a centimeter. Her voice is low, slow, like the unhurried rumble of a thunderstorm in summer. "Little ghost, you are trespassing."

He breathes.

His heart—or something like it—hammers in his chest.

"I'm sorry," he stammers out. "I—I'm new—here. In this place, I mean. I'm still trying to figure out—everything, really. I keep falling. I fell here. I wasn't trying to come here. I swear."

She considers him with eyes the size of dinner plates. Her irises are the same bright green as the not-blood drying on his palm. Her round pupils are the same shade of red as a human's in a badly timed photograph. "Even so," she says. "You have trespassed on my domain, and so you must answer my riddle."

Oh, great. Danny's never been any great shake with Classical mythology, but he does remember the gist of this one. If ghost sphinxes work anything like the mythological ones, then he's got three options: answer correctly and proceed (to where is a big ol' question mark, but whatever), answer incorrectly and be eaten alive (which explains all the bones), or walk away. Considering he's not trying to go anywhere on this island, and in fact has zero interest in exploring it further, he is A-OK taking the coward's route.

But considering how easy it must be for ghosts—or, ghosts that know what the hell they're doing, unlike him—it must be incredibly easy to skip her riddle entirely and just fly off. And considering just how many bones there are here, he's missing something. He's missing something very, very important.

"I don't get to walk away without answering you, do I?" He asks quietly.

The sphinx makes an even deeper rumbling sound that settles in Danny's diaphragm. It takes him a moment to realize she's purring. "You are wiser than you look."

Considering the size of her fangs, he bites down the snarky retort on the tip of his tongue and shrugs sheepishly instead. "Any chance you'll give a new guy an easy riddle?"

The purring stops.

Fuck.

Her head cocks, birdlike, as she leans forward to appraise him. He tries not to shake, really, but she's enormous. She could swallow him whole if she were so inclined. Considered the cracked heap of bones he's standing ankle-deep in, she is. And he kind of doubts she’ll make quick work of him. She'll kill him slow.

Double-kill him. Whatever. Who cares. He really doesn't want to be eaten by a giant monster lady.

He exhales slowly, dropping his gaze to her huge paws. Though she has something roughly akin to thumbs, her nails are feline enough to retract wholly. He can only stand there and imagine what they look like, how they'd feel tearing him open. "Okay," he says.

Another bassy purr. Then she asks him, "What disappears as soon as you say its name?"

Well, shit. And here he was hoping she'd ask him the riddle from the myth. So much for blurting out, "Man!" then bailing as fast as humanly—ghostly?—possible. He rocks back on his heels—wincing when more bones crunch—racking his brain. Math is honestly his strong point. English is something he gets, sure, but all the wacky linguistic tricks that can accompany it are just... not something that comes up in his day-to-day, so he can easily ignore it. Riddles and word problems are things he's always been able to wave off as not worth his time.

Well, today's just chalk full of firsts, isn't it? Make or break time. Or, more accurately, answer correctly or be eaten time.

Nngh.

"Is there a time limit to answering?" He asks nervously.

The sphinx shakes her great head, and takes his question as cue to sit. Her stretched face doesn't twitch an inch from its beatific grin, but her lion's tail does lash irritably. So that's technically a 'no,' sure, but definitely not one he should try to take advantage of.

So. Crunch time.

Maybe don't think of that too literally.

Disappears as soon as you say its name....

Disappears if you speak it.

Disappears if you say it?

Disappears if you speak?

He swallows, looking back up at her large, large eyes. "Um. Is it silence?"

There are three terrible seconds where she only looks at him, as unreadable as a marble statue. Then her eyes wink shut, and she purrs, and Danny just about goes to jelly with relief.

Scratch that. He does go to jelly, at least under the belt. His legs have fucking melted to a twitching black streak of semi-transparent smoke. He makes a very undignified shriek and flails around, only succeeding in losing whatever subconscious grasp on hovering he'd had and landing in a painful heap of well-chewed bones.

The sphinx leans far, far over to peer at him curiously. The grin on her freaky face has shrunk to something that Danny's sure is amusement at his expense. "You are new."

His traitorous legs reappear with a small pop! He glowers at them rather than meet her eyes. She's still sitting on the edge of the bone clearing, and sure she's big, but not big enough to explain how she's stretched out so far that her face is only two scant feet from his.

"What gave it away?" He grumbles, shaking his arm out of a rib cage that is, thankfully, not human-shaped. It's also a lovely shade of pale purple, or his eyes are playing tricks on him.

"How long since your arrival?"

"Uh. Hard to say." He gets to feet, patting he doesn't-wanna-know off his stupid jumpsuit. "Twenty minutes? Half hour, tops."

Her stretched-out mouth gains an unmistakable pitying curl. Great. That's his cue to leave before she decides to put him out of his misery. With her enormous teeth. He clears his throat, drums up a happy thought—not being here, oh, if only—and manages a wobbly hover. "Right. Um. Thank you. For not eating me."

She sits back and this time Danny's looking to see that yup, she was stretched out like a length of taffy. She stretches again, this time more like a normal cat-shaped thing should. Her hooked claws drag deep white furrows in the rock; her yawning mouth—also neon green—is lined with at least twice as many teeth as any cat-shaped thing should have.

Well. That was only mildly horrifying.

She settles back into a stiff sitting position, lion's tail curling over her paws as she looks down her nose at him. "You would be wise to take greater care than this," she cautions. "I am not so terrible as what slumbers in the deep places."

Danny shivers, more than a little dismayed to be fed a line straight out of a cheesy fantasy novel. By a sphinx, no less. But mostly he feels like he's in dire need of a magic sword or something to deal with whatever other horrible monster he comes across that might not be as chill as this one. Or Gandalf. If sphinxes are real here maybe he'll get lucky and come across a ghost wizard on the next island he crash-lands on. Hopefully it won't want to kill him too, though with how things are going so far his hopes are pretty low.

He musters up a weak smile. "Right. I'll try my best. Um, actually, now that you mention it? I'm kinda having a hard time going any direction but down. Any advice?"

As answer she unfolds her wings, confirming that her wingspan is, in fact, ludicrous. It's not especially helpful though.

"Uh, that's... they're very nice. Very pretty. But I don't have wings, so—"

The rest of his stammering is mercifully cut short when he's sent ass over tea kettle by the heavy downwash of her wings as she takes off, so much faster than something her size should be capable of. By the time Danny's figured out which way is up again—a feat in itself, considering how everything everywhere looks like technicolor vomit—she's a red blip in the distance.

Well, damn. If she expects him to follow her she better not hold her breath—

The heretofore now perfectly solid ground chooses at that moment to flicker out of existence. Once again, Danny falls. This time he has the delightful addition of several hundred bone bits falling along with him.

"Grrrngh," one of the skulls complains, a single pale light bouncing around its crunched-in sockets.

Danny sighs and musters up the effort to halt himself again. After wincing through a small deluge of dubiously sentient people and animal bones, he's entirely alone again. There's another floating island not too far from, maybe fifty yards above him and a full football field's length off. It'd be a great test of figuring how this flying without wings work, if not for the waterfall of something that's definitely not water careening off one edge. It's a dark red, and thick, and Danny's not sure if he wants to get close enough to confirm whether or not that island is bleeding.

Well. Nowhere to go but up, right?

Well, no. There's still a lot of down under his feet—nope, back to a creepy ghost tail again. Cool. Great. Excellent. Whatever. He peers down into the dark below him, swallowing nervously. It gets a lot darker down than in any other direction. There are streaks and dots of light down there sure, but a lot fewer, and clustered together like they're nervous of what might be down there with them—

And a long, long gray tentacle is swimming up out of the mist. Coming straight for him, no less.

Flash!

Aaaand check it out, there goes his magic glowing jumpsuit and his ability to float with it. Great.

#danny phantom #my writing #phic phight 2020 #aka the one where danny has a panic attack while falling for half an hour

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harrysscheshirecat · 5 years

Text

Kiss

JustFriends! Harry has a movie night with mates that ends with a sweet drunken kiss. (fluff) 2.9k

Harry knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

He entered the warm flat and shrugged his coat off to leave it hanging on the rack in the hall. He also toed his boots off before going in search of his host, “Where are you?”

“Kitchen!” Harry followed her voice further into the flat. He arrived in the doorway just in time to see her pop up from behind the island with a bowl. She looked comfy. In leggings, a vest, and and an oversized cardigan that couldn’t seem to stay on her shoulders. A smile overtook her features when she saw him, “Hey!” They exchanged all the normal pleasantries with a hug. Then Harry offered his help, which Lenin was having none of. “Go make yourself comfortable. Pour yourself a glass of wine.” she instructed, shooing him into the other room, “I’ll be right there.”

He would’ve insisted if there was any more to do, but with her pulling the freshly popped bag of popcorn from the microwave, it looked like she had it sorted. “Sure there’s nothing I can do?” Harry wandered into the family room.

“Pull the movie menu up, maybe?” Lenin called out from the kitchen.

The telly was already on with the DVD previews playing. Harry grabbed the remote and sat down in the middle of the couch whilst searching for the menu button. He loaded the title screen with enough time to pour himself that glass of wine; taking note of the other two half-full glasses, and kick his feet up, making himself comfortable as previously instructed.

Lenin scampered out of the kitchen with snack in hand. She sat herself with crossed legs at his side. Ashley came bounding down the hall soon after, blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape. She seated herself on the other side of Harry and promptly laid her long legs out across his lap as her greeting. Harry usually didn’t mind such gestures but it seemed a dangerous liberty to allow someone like Ashley, a slippery slope. But he didn’t want to make anything weird so he said nothing of it.

He started the movie. It was recent but rolled through some of the credits before it began like the classics used to. The mischievous model to his left made a few small shifts that could be played off as settling in. Though it wasn’t long before there was a pretty steady movement in Harry’s lap. Ashley was slowly rubbing her feet together against his thighs, brushing over his cock every so often. He was only human. Enough friction in that area would make any red-blooded man excited. “Stop. Wiggling.” he warned, grabbing ahold of her feet through the blanket draped over them.

“Sorry,” Her Cheshire grin gave her away. She wasn’t sorry at all. “A.D.H.D.” Bollox. The only thing that was hyperactive was her libido. She knew exactly what she was doing to him.

“She’s like a child,” Lenin leaned over to explain, “just ignore her and she’ll leave you alone eventually.” But she didn’t feel the way Ashley moved her ‘restless’ feet in his lap. Trying to get a (literal) rise out of him, he reckoned. It was like sitting between a bloody angel and a demon.

“Hey!” Ashley feigned outrage. “Rude.” The blonde used the opportunity to start her troublesome wiggling again. Harry exchanged a sharp look with her. He wasn’t sure what she was playing at, in front of Lenin like that.

“But true.” Lenin pushed at her friends’ feet, the move somewhat vindicating Harry. He leant forward to discard the remote and moved Ashleys’ feet with him, letting them conveniently fall off his lap as he reached a little further than he needed to. When he leaned back, Lenin handed the bowl of popcorn to him to place on his lap. Hopefully Ashley got the hint. Lenin eventually slipped further into Harry’s side. He tucked her small form under his arm and reverted his attention back to the screen, far more comfortable than before.

He hadn’t even asked what they were watching. He didn’t care, really. He was just happy to spend the night in with mates. It was some dark drama about a street gang in the 1920’s. A smoky Jazz club and Tommy guns making for a shocking introduction to the film.

“You worked with him, right?” Ashley tipped her drink towards the screen, towards whom Harry deduced was the main fella. A tall gent in a finely tailored three piece suit.

“Mhmm.” Lenin didn’t elaborate, but Harry didn’t miss the way she brought up her glass of wine to hide the smile produced at the mention of that guy.

More of the movie played, with the firefight spilling out onto the street. “Isn’t he…you liked him!” Ashley shrieked when there was a close up. That was enough to pique Harry’s interest, like it wasn’t already. He was a striking lad. With deep blue eyes that captivated even Harry and a bone structure that belonged on the glossy pages of some high fashion magazine. Lenin was conveniently finishing her long sip of wine in that moment.

She shook her head, “He has a lovely wife, and children.”

Alexis rolled her eyes, “I didn’t ask if you were marrying the guy.” She watched the actor in question on screen, and snapped her fingers as she recalled, “Jazz hands!”

“Jazz hands?” Harry peaked down at Len. He had to know the origin of that nickname. He was paying more attention to the girls than the movie at that point, sipping on his wine as he did so.

“They did a movie together, her first, and he took Lenin out-” Ashley continued. Lucky bloke.

“He takes all of his co-stars out. It’s a good way to start a shoot.” Lenin tried to reason.

“It was just the two of you that time, no?” Ashley was quick to point out. It was like watching a tennis match with all the back and forth they had. “So she comes home that night all goo-goo eyed over this guy. ‘he’s so handsome, he’s so smart, he’s so funny!’ Ashley teased, clasping her hands together and batting her eyelashes.

Lenin sunk deeper into Harry’s side. “See if I tell you anything again.” she grumbled. Harry was sure to give her a reassuring little squeeze.

“Anyway, “ Ashley continued, “Jazz was one of this guys’ big influences, he played the jazz guitar in a Jazz band. Now in a movie about Jazz.” she pointed towards the screen, her drink sloshing around dangerously in her cup. He was impressed she had somehow managed to keep it all in the glass thus far. “And you know what they say about musicians.”

“What do they say?” Harry dared to ask. He knew he was only encouraging bad behavior.

“They’re good with their hands.” Ashley knowingly implied, with a smile. Harry didn't miss the pointed stare at his own hands either. “The dexterity from all those instruments.” The blonde wiggled her fingers. Surely she was someone’s dream girl. With so many double entendres it made his head spin.

“For the record, I never used the moniker.” Lenin chimed in, trying to distance herself from the nickname. and Ashleys’ dubious definition.

“But never disputed it either.” Ashley countered, tipping her wine glass towards her friend.

He could also sense Lenin’s discomfort. He figured they had teased her long enough, “So what’s this movie about?” he interjected. The girls settled again, with Ashley momentarily satiated with her glass of merlot.

Lenin whispered a thank you for the distraction.

“‘ course.” Harry held off for as long as he could, but that didn’t end up being very long, just long enough for Ashley to loose interest in the period piece and divert her attention to her mobile. “So…you like musicians, aye?” he extended the arm that was wrapped around her to show off his hand. He had never been so proud of his long fingers and wide palms. It was stupid and juvenile. But so was he, sometimes.

Her eyes widened with an innocence that never got old. “Stop it,” she scolded with a light slap to the chest before pointedly turned her attention back to the movie.

“Kidding…” he murmured, pulling her back to him.

Ashley left some time ago. Had some club opening to go to. She invited them, tried admirably to talk them into it. But Harry was all set for a night in, and it seemed Lenin felt the same. Harry would take the washing up with Lenin over clubbing any day of the week. They had a nice system going. Harry washed the popcorn bowl before handing it off to Lenin. She sat on the counter beside the sink and proceeded to towel dry the bowl. “So, did you really fancy that actor fella?” he cringed internally when he heard how bothered he sounded, failing spectacularly to hide his unwarranted jealousy.

“I did quite like him.” she admitted thoughtfully with a beautiful blush growing, placing the clean bowl to the side. “A crush, I suppose.” she offered, “All innocent, of course. Because- married.” Harry smiled as he listened and started on the wine glasses, “He was kind to me. He treated me like a peer, not just ‘that rockstars’ kid’ or ‘that Actress’ daughter’.” He could hear the fondness she still felt for him, “And when we worked together…” Harry watched Lenin in his peripheral play with the drying towel in her lap while she mused, “I was so nervous. He must’ve picked up on that, went to the director, and within 10 minutes, the set was almost entirely cleared. He told me what a closed set was and to have my managers have them written into any future contracts. He was very helpful. And sweet.” It was endearing, really. Like listening to his girl friends in secondary school gush of a crush on a teacher.

He handed her the glass. “You sound positively smitten.” Again with the jealous tone, despite his best efforts to keep it light. Thankfully, the slightly intoxicated Lenin didn’t seem to pick up on it. He busied himself with the second glass.

“Not hard to do.” Lenin responded, drying the glass. “If you’re my friend it means I already like you. Doesn’t take much more for me to become smitten.” she thought out loud, finishing the glass and setting it aside. She normally wasn’t so revealing. It was nice to see her less inhibited. She was cheekier as well, sharing increasingly flirty touches all night. Harry certainly didn’t mind that. “I fall in love with my friends every day.” Lenin smiled shyly and absentmindedly wrung the towel in her lap, “A personality flaw.” she laughed.

“Nothing flawed about it.” Harry insisted, paying little attention to the third glass. He understood. Friends were easy to love, as you already did in some regard or another. Harry was often guilty of turning to friends for comfort. It was easy, and he knew he could trust them. “So does that mean you’ve ever fallen for me?” His cheeky side got the better of him and he had to ask. “As a friend.” he handed the last glass off to her and turned the tap off.

“Sure.” But there was no further explanation. She dried the glass, set it aside, and reached for the half-empty wine bottle discarded behind her. Lenin placed it between her thighs and proceeded to struggle with the wine cork. Harry tugged the towel away from her to wipe his hands dry, a little dumbfounded, while the poor buzzed girl continued to inadvertently wedge the cork further into the neck of the bottle, adorable pout and all.

“No…” She was messing with him now, surely. Getting him back for earlier in the evening. “You didn’t.” He stepped in front of her and tossed the towel back into her lap, gesturing for her to hand the bottle over, “Here.” Lenin handed the bottle over, then reached back for the glass they just cleaned and held it up to her chest, waiting. Harry had the thing open and was pouring her a generous glass within the minute.

“Thank you, kind sir.” she raised the glass to him before nursing the red. “I used to have such a crush on you.” she continued without prompting.

Harry took the glass in one hand for a swig of his own and leaned over Lenin to put the bottle away at the same time. He could feel her gaze, so close, penetrating him. She extended an arm and brushed his hair back. She gave a slight tug at the end that had Harry’s toes curling in his socks and he couldn’t figure out if she just got her fingers caught, or if she was playing. Either way, she was going to drive him mad like that.

What were they talking about again? Harry waded through his increasingly clouded mind to find a coherent thought for the conversation at hand. “You ‘used’ to fancy me.” he reiterated her specific choice of words. Lenin held the full glass out to Harry to offer him some. He took the glass and a swig. “Am I that bad now?” Harry handed the drink back. They got a wee bit closer when the glass was exchanged.

Lenin smiled ruefully, “Everyone ‘fancies’ you.”

“Ah, the jealous type.” he ribbed.

Lenin shook her head again, “Do you remember those first few months, where were just kept running into each other in LA?” He did. It seemed every week, almost. He always saw it as sort of serendipitous. “I was…so into you.” she shook her head like she was trying to shake the idea out entirely, all with a sheepish smile. She would never be so candid sober. “And every time there seemed to be yet another girl with you.” She pushed the wine off to him, “straight off whatever lingerie fashion show runway they wandered off from.” He didn’t realize she was paying such close attention to his dating history.

He took a swig and tried to think of how to explain. He wanted no misconceptions, to tell her he hadn’t slept with all of them, but that was a sorry defense. Especially considering how many of them he actually did bed. “Let me take you out.” He couldn’t be faulted for his dating history prior to her. Everyone had a past. And he knew if she allowed him to properly take her out, he’d win her over. Or at least he sincerely hoped. The glass exchanged hands once more.

“What about the models?” Lenin feigned a gasp, before finishing the wine. Harry didn't much mind her jealous streak.

“I only see them because you won’t have me.” H countered without missing a beat.

There was a long silence before Lenin broke it with a light, tight laugh, her nervous laugh. “Oh, hush,” she underhandedly grabbed the thick material of his jumper and pulled him into her. Harry shuffled closer and Len’s mouth found his. Her supple lips ghosted over his, back and forth, teasing him before she finally took pity on him and let their lips meet fully. She tasted exactly how he imagined she would. Warm, and still sweet from the wine.

It was all so innocent. With one peck quickly followed by another. His mouth opened for her when her tongue swept over his upper lip. Her little fists kept a tight grip on either side of his jumper kept the space between them nonexistent. She wasn’t fighting fair. He still wanted an answer. But the conversation was all but forgotten with just a slight shift of her hips into him. She felt so good agains him, her taut body inviting him to explore more. But it was never far from his mind, even slightly buzzed, why it was all so innocent. Because she was so innocent. He reckoned, unlike her minx of a mate earlier, she really had no idea what she was doing to him.

She was his mate. Someone Harry had grown to like to share his day with, and liked to tell important things to. That was far more important than what his cock wanted right now. “I should go, Len.” He selfishly hoped she would ask him to stay.

Lenin pouted and let out the tiniest moan that almost broke his resolve right there. “I’ll walk you to the door.” she said, hopping off the counter. Harry’s hands instinctively went to her waist to keep the tipsy girl steady. Lenin slipped out of his reach just as quickly.

The short walk down the hall was quiet. Harry’s fists clenched and unclenched with every step, actively resisting the strongest urge to reach out for her hand. But he knew he wouldn’t stop there. Fingers laced together would undoubtably lead to a goodbye kiss. However well intentioned it was, it seemed entirely counter-productive to him leaving, so he kept his hands to his sides.

“Tonight was fun.” Lenin commented when they reached the door.

“Yeah. It was.” he agreed, sliding his trainers on, then his coat.

“Text when you’re home safe, yeah?” her kind words caused a fondness to bloom for her that made it all the harder to walk away from.

Harry nodded, “yeah, ‘course.” and risked that goodnight kiss after some more careful deliberation. It wasn’t as quick as the others that came before it. They both lingered, because they knew what came after. And when it did end, it didn’t really. With her plump lips lightly grazing back and forth across his, just like how she started the kiss, before she finally, slowly pulled away.

“Goodnight, Harry.” He couldn’t take his eyes of her lips. The way she sucked her bottom lip in. He couldn’t help but wonder if she felt the same tingle after that kiss that he was left with.

“Night, love.” Harry opened the door and forced himself through. The brisk air hit him like a cold shower. It was a shock to the system, and probably exactly what he needed in that moment.

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles FanFic #Harry Styles FanFiction #Harry Styles Fan Fic #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #FanFic #FanFiction #fluff #imagine #Bright Young Things #kiss #writing

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paixen · 7 years

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ffxv/atla/korra stuff?

just gonna ramble my thoughts and opinions of an atla au in which the ffxv chocobros exist because showers always get me thinking. fair warning, there is no organized timeline so i’ll be jumping willy nilly between atla and lok events, so pardon the spectacularly inconsistent verb tenses. this will be a messy stream of consciousness post. Spoilers all around.

noct: i feel like the prince would mostly likely be a water bender. he’s just got this cool, icy vibe going about him. small things - i find his ice spells to be visually pleasing because i feel like ice compliments his black and pale aesthetic best of the other elements. his eyes are a good chilly icy blue. and he likes to fish. Ray Chase even said that everything that noct says has weight to it because being cool is so important to him. larger things - his character development is exceptional. he undergoes so much change. as a water bender, he might struggle to get a handle on the techniques initially because of his overall inert attitude toward life. then chapter 13 happens and he becomes quite the changed man. he is able to go about his days by feel, ready to adapt as soon as he needs to. Sounds changey watery to me. once he gets into the water bending groove, his go-to weapon would be ice shards. water bending is often argued to be the most powerful form of bending, being able to conduct electricity, manipulate the water content in bodies, chi/qi meddling, healing, all that jazz. it would be fitting for a king like himself. i also like to imagine him having uninterested, unimportant arguments with the korra, who would fiercely sass him back. korra would kick his butt of course, but no one can stay mad at noct forever. he’s literally sacrificing himself. at least the avatar doesn’t need to die to save the world. i also like to imagine sokka, aang, and prompto being real bros and roping noct into semi-ironically partaking their shenanigans and terrible jokes, iggy, gladio, and katara shaking their heads somewhere in the background. in another scene, the other 3 chocobros are probably bowing at katara’s feet for her generously mentoring noct with how to manage his ice spells so that the other guys don’t have to suffer under his AOE icy hell. if only he could have learn these techniques before Leviathan happened... also Shiva is just nonchalantly JAZZED in the spirit world that her wee prince is learning ice so well. His doggo companion, Umbra, would probably be part spirit, gifted with some nifty communication abilities. He’ll never lose touch with Luna with Umbra around. Umbra is definitely cuddle buddies with Naga. (noct is kinda amused by the irony in the name of korra’s bear-dog.)

prompto: first instinct is to say he’d be an air bender because of the happy-go-lucky/carefree vibe he exudes. but then i remember Bolin, to whom he is similar in personality. as much as i love picturing prom air scootering around town, i also have a hard time picturing him being a particularly spiritually invested individual. and then i also remember prom’s MT history and his old esteem issues. prom is someone who can’t live without constantly being reminded of his roots. heavily influential roots make me lean toward him being an earth bender, his specialty being metal bending. it would make so much sense - the bros tease him about being a technophile. he is MT. I imagine him really digging Zaofu. Toph would teach him as mercilessly as the rest of her pupils, but his quirky personality would eventually win her over, queuing her signature affectionate punch. with time, he even picks up sand bending pretty decently. the Beifongs would end up being quite protective over this ray of sunshine despite his clear ability to take care of himself (esp after the 10 year jump.) wouldn’t be surprised if zuko took prom on a life-changing field trip that confronts his past. #the real episode prompto. that’s rough buddy. bolin and prom would get pretty competitive with earth bending sports. he and bolin gossip about how they secretly have a crush on gladio’s muscles. prompto also confesses his love for asami to bolin. she’s techy and gorgeous, it just isn’t fair. bolin empathizes with him, talking about his old crush on korra. prompto would essentially become another brother to mako and bolin. Asami is still fond of prompto and appreciates the help he offers in the garage. Iroh is probably commending prompto’s appreciation of nature and friendship, as displayed so wonderfully in his pictures. at the end of the day, prompto finds that his camera’s memory is completely full of real flattering pics of aang’s face and motion blurred sokka who complains of not being ready for taking a perfect picture. toph is just glad she can’t see the pictures. meelo borrows some of the pictures prompto takes for references for his complex paintings. varrick hires prompto as his personal photographer and the two fall in love with each others’ spunk. they talk about prompto’s cindy situation. prompto is given some terrible ideas for this but he tries them anyway. when iggy is freshly blind, prompto does everything he can to give iggy pointers to help him feel his way around the earth. of course, his animal companion is a chocobo. when noct is gone, he makes sure to take a charcoal colored chocobo chick under his care and names it after his late friend.

ignis: again, first instinct is to classify the guy as a water bender, like katara, both being the moms of their squads. it’d also make sense, being the healer of the group. regardless, iggy’s a bit tough for me, because he also reminds me of tenzin - being the protagonist’s advisor and being accidentally funny. but he also demonstrates the aristocratic discipline of a polished fire bender, a much different kind of discipline from katara’s or tenzin’s. my final answer is that iggy would be a fire bender. he’s wise like iroh and disciplined like jeong jeong. the fire benders seem to take on advisory rolls in the avatar series in terms of main characters anyway. Iroh to Zuko. Zuko to Aang. Mako to Bolin. i like to imagine ignis using fire bending to his advantage as a cook. his ebony never runs cold. i also like to imagine when ignis becomes blind, instead of using his usual fire bending in melee, he figures out how to manipulate the electric impulses in human body. he could effectively exhaust someone or something just by tetanizing their muscles. he and katara might even be able to discover some medically revolutionary treatments through his abilities with the nerves, pacemaker cells, and the brain. also the synergy between noct and iggy when fighting would be so good. iggy would probably grab some lightning from the atmosphere and direct it to noct, who redirects the lightning with his water bending, quickly incapacitating MTs. if noct is unavailable then prompto’s on it, sending a charged metal whip right to the hearts of the MTs. iggy will sometimes put a motherly flame under noct’s ass to get him out of bed in the morning. Iroh is probably very fond of iggy, who appreciates his tea and is a great conversationalist when it comes to philosophy. iggy is always more than happy to cook for Iroh and to play pai sho on his spare time. iroh basically adopts the man. When iggy is blind, he and zuko like to tease each other about the fact that they both have scars on their left eyes. iggy proves to be a great listener for zuko just as he is for noct. zuko basically adopts iggy as his substitute uncle when iroh passes. now iggy is busy motherinig TWO angsty figureheads. at least zuko eats his vegetables. gladio is always grateful when iggy’s around so he doesn’t have to spend a lot of time making a fire. toph probably thinks iggy is just the most amusing, darnedest, and sometimes infuriating beast, and iggy learns a lot from toph when he’s blind. it doesn’t take an earth bender to tap into the frequencies of the world, and he eventually learns to see like toph. team avatar lowkey ships the two together, but the chocobros know that iggy probably couldn’t handle a girl like toph. when iggy visits zaofu, he cooks for suyin, who is blown away by the blind man’s tastes. bolin requests seconds and thirds of his meals, going up to fifths, rivaling gladio’s appetite. every once in a while, iggy feels intrigued by varrick and helps zhu li out with her endless duties. Ignis would probably have a BIG black leopard-opossum hybrid companion. a beast with heightened sight and smell to guide him when his own eyes fail. also a good friend for finding quality ingredients.

gladio: gladio’s a straight forward kind of guy. he knows what his path is. his mind is unwavering, being the king’s shield. he is a guy who’s very in tune with nature. I bet he’s a natural earth bender. gladio can also have a firey temper when provoked. over time he might learn to lava bend. as the chocobro’s survivalist, his earth bending comes in handy when they boys are just too tired to set up a tent or to build a proper fire pit. if he’s lucky, he doesn’t even have to try very hard to catch small prey like rabbits if they’re unfortunately close by. he makes very easy friends with the creatures from the spirit world. they show him all sorts plants to live off and places to camp out. of all the bros, toph tolerates him the best. this is mostly because he can put up an equal fight and isn’t as excitable as the others. the bros are awestruck once again by how gladio can seem to get on every woman’s good side. toph and gladio enjoy sparring - toph is very sensitive to his movements and quick to react. gladio has excellent instincts as well and is obviously powerful. he might not be quite as accurate as toph but he’s got just a smidge more brute force than her, somehow. sokka is unsubtley jealous of gladio’s masculinity and secretly leaves to do some pull ups on a tree or something. how dare gladio just walk around with his 6-pack out and about. gladio and aang become great buddies. aang and gladio relentlessly pull pranks on each other and the bros. aang helps gladio learn the wiley ways of the spirit world too. korra sees gladio as a big brother. when she needs someone to talk to, gladio’s there to listen. if she needs to let off some bad energy by throwing rocks n’ stuff, he’s always happy to give the avatar a good, earthy fight. this guy can take a punch. prompto is hiding and secretly taking pics of the intense fights. both fighters are pleased with how badass they look. he and bolin train together sometimes, though usually the sessions end up devolving into a volley of cheap and dirty tactics and taunting. spending time with bolin is still one of his favorite pastimes. gladio becomes fond of mako as well. they relate to each other, having very similar occupations. gladio even offers to fill in for mako when something more urgent than his police work requires his presence. lin approves of gladio. every once in a while prompto requests gladio’s assistance in helping him escape the slightly overwhelming varrick during enormous parties, but gladio decides to stick around and have a few drinks with the elegantly dressed ladies. gladio would probably have a raven for an animal companion (partially to match his tats.) The raven would be a great helper when scavenging and just a nice intelligent friend to hang out with. His raven probably plays pranks on all the other bro’s animals.

#ffxv #atla #lok #avatar #noctis #prompto #ignis #gladio #long post

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ntrending · 5 years

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The Bose 700 headphones have the strongest noise-cancelling around

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/the-bose-700-headphones-have-the-strongest-noise-cancelling-around/

The Bose 700 headphones have the strongest noise-cancelling around

Even the sturdy, zippered case feels high-end. (Stan Horaczek/)

There are plenty of appropriate places to test a flagship pair of wireless headphones such as the new $400 Bose Noise Canceling Headphones 700. An open office, for example, is a great spot to try the upgraded noise-cancelling mode that has 10 selectable levels of intensity. A crowded train full of tipsy, shouting baseball fans is another great opportunity to evaluate the long-term comfort of the soft, synthetic leather ear cups.

But, perhaps the marquee feature in the new Bose 700 noise-cancelling headphones comes in the form of its calling abilities. The headset now uses four of the six built-in mics to hone in on your voice during a call or web conference and an algorithm helps drown out the rest of the noise around you. To test this, I wore them directly in front of the stage while Chicago hardcore band, Harms Way, ripped through a set at a small independent music venue in upstate, New York.

“Can you hear me?” I asked, fully expecting it to fail. Why would it work in a situation like that? Sure, the headphones are great in the coffee shop for blocking out the scream of a milk steamer or the small child who ran into my chair dozens of times while I tried to write this post. But, a heavy metal concert?

Surprisingly, the call actually kinda worked. It wasn’t ideal, and my voice reportedly had a “weird, muffled roar” in the background. And my wife—I called her instead of a coworker because I fully expected this to fail spectacularly—had to yell because the max volume over the Bluetooth connection isn’t designed to keep up with stacks of guitar amps. But, it did work. I could hear the person on the other end of the call and she could mostly hear me. Bose put a lot of work into these headphones beyond simple listening and drowning out the drone of plane engines.

Design

The headband is flexible and offers enough give and reach to fit everyone who tried them on. (Stan Horaczek/)

Bose has never skimped when it comes to fit and finish that make you feel better about spending as much as $400 on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. The 700s are no exception. The sturdy, zippered case is wide, but flat (for reasons I’ll mention in a moment) and encompasses an internal compartment to hold accessories like the USB-C charging cable and the airplane adapter that’s still sometimes annoyingly necessary.

The headphones themselves are even posher. Their smooth, matte material finish feels like what I’d imagine a dolphin feels like when it’s dry. It’s lovely, but it picks up fingerprints easily.

Rather than folding with a hinge, like the Sony 1000XM3, the ear cups simply rotate and slide up and down the tapered headband to fit inside the case. This means the case takes up more overall room in your bag but also reduces the likelihood that a hinge will break over time as moving parts love to do.

This is the first pair of Bose headphones with touch gesture control on the outside of the right ear cup and I was impressed by it. The gestures are responsive: swipe forward or backward to skip from song to song, and simple taps start and stop playback. I still accidentally activated it a few times—the sensitivity is welcome sometimes, but frustrating when I would go to adjust my hat and accidentally skip a song. Still, it’s a solid effort, especially for its first attempt at touch controls.

Noise-cancelling

Each earcup has a large letter inside to indicate its side. (Stan Horaczek/)

This product’s marquis feature is its ability to cancel out sound from the outside world before it hits your eardrums and, at the moment, Bose still sits on top. There are 10 selectable levels of noise-cancelling. The lowest setting actually pipes sound from outside the headphones into your ears, which comes in handy if you’re trying to listen to a presentation or a quiet conversation. At maximum, however, they’re absurdly effective.

I’ve spent hundreds of hours on Amtrak trains while commuting and have tried quite a few pairs of noise-cancelling headphones, and none of them have flattened out the drone of the rails quite like these. It’s not a runaway victory, however. Sony’s 1000Xm3 are a close second, and other options from companies like Libratone and even Microsoft are still in the ballpark. But, the 700s manage their quieting feat without the “ear suck” or pressure feeling that I’ve experienced with some other high-power noise-cancelling options.

It works thanks to six microphones form an array that picks up sound from both inside and outside the ear cups. This allows Bose to effectively evaluate and cancel exterior sound, while identifying and eliminating any distortion that may happen on the inside near the speaker. The real difference, however, comes from the processing that Bose does with data from those microphones, which the company says it has spent years tuning.

A button on the left ear cup lets you cycle between the minimum, the median, and the maximum noise-cancelling settings. You can choose any of the 10 options from within the app or reprogram the button to cycle between levels of your choosing.

For phone calls and web meetings, the 700s use four total microphones—two borrowed from the noise-cancelling system and two dedicated beam-forming mics specifically designed to pick up your voice. This is an area where I’ve found headphones like these generally lacking, but I was impressed with the Bose performance here. Roping in those extra noise-cancelling mics really does help to isolate your speaking voice against background din, especially loud, abrupt sounds like a slamming door, which I would have expected to cut through.

Sound performance

Look how excited the singer of Harms Way was to see me wearing the Bose 700 noise-cancelling headphones. (Stan Horaczek/)

Dig into the nicely-designed, but relatively feature-sparse app and you’ll notice that there’s no EQ control that lets you tweak the sound—you get what it gives. If you’re familiar with Bose’s QuietComfort series, it should seem rather familiar. The sound is clear and pleasing, but overall a bit flat, especially compared with a boom-heavy, bass-centric headphone like the Sony. This works in Bose’s favor sometimes, and against it in others.

I ran the headphones through my typical cadre of metal songs, which I like because they demand clarity to separate the helicopter-style blast beats, as well as lows for the vocals and highs for the shredding guitars. Bose handled the separation excellently, and the highs were clear without grating (at least not more than they’re supposed to), but the vocals were a little lacking.

With less intense selections, the tuning makes more sense. I listened to Billy Joel’s “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” roughly a dozen times by accident while concentrating on writing, and the balance was excellent. Lastly, I pumped some frenetic jazz through them in the form of Buddy Rich’s “Roar of ’74.” Again, clean and clear, but less punchy on the low end than with some other options.

Who should buy them?

When money is no object, it’s pretty easy to recommend the Bose 700 noise-cancelling headphones. That $400 price tag, however, is substantial. If you spend unending hours on trains and planes, or around coworkers that chew loudly during lunch, investing in the top dog noise cancelling might be worth it for you. If you can, however, I recommend trying them out in person, especially if you have sensitive ears since strong noise-cancelling can cause physical discomfort in some people. Just don’t ask to take them to a metal concert and then make a phone call. That’s not where they belong.

Written By Stan Horaczek

#Technology

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